


Shower Seen

by Mellifluous



Category: Beetle Bailey - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Don't Ask Don't Tell, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masculinity, Voyeurism, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2010-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellifluous/pseuds/Mellifluous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Showers would burn Sarge to the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower Seen

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is my first piece sans dialogue. Ever. I can't believe it, myself.

Sarge took a deep breath, and jerked the hot-water tap to full blast.

He liked his showers hot—the hotter, the better. It was cathartic; after days full of self-loathing at his overeating, overdrinking, and overreacting, the searing gush of the water provided an odd, but intense, relief. It hit his skin brutally and perfectly.

On days when he was feeling particularly masochistic, he wouldn't touch the blue tap at all.

The heat of the water had another benefit: the steam. Within seconds, it would begin to billow from behind his curtain, veiling the proceedings. Everything disappeared. For a moment, he didn't have to worry about his fatness, his anger, or maybe even the other men who were showering, right next to him.

The day Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been announced, Sarge had taken the opportunity to declare that he didn't want gays looking at him in the shower. Perfect. Done. No one could suspect a thing of him now. Because he was straight, and gay guys don't say they don't want other gay guys looking at them in the shower.

It was true that he didn't want them looking at him—he hated his body enough already. But when the steam cleared after he turned off the tap, it was back to reality, and to other men, who were casually chatting as they wiped themselves off.

He tried not to stare. This was a platonic environment, and he himself had said that he wanted no stares.  
First, he looked away, face to the wall, breathing deeply in order to calm himself. How was it that the shower relaxed him, yet incited him so much?

Then, he turned briefly—merely a twitch of the head, of course, and shifted the curtain aside a bit. From his periphery—good, okay, most had tied towels around their waists.

But then—there was something that captured his attention. He thrust the curtain back some more and saw Beetle himself, who wasn't even bothering with modesty, having flopped the towel around his neck. And he was in the middle of a group of fellow soldiers! No trouble at all.

As his gaze dropped further, further, down Beetle's body, Sarge's heart dropped in turn. Mortified, he shut the curtain and, for good measure, his eyes. If he wasn't already red (thanks to the pounding hot shower), he now would be; humiliation snaked up his body like ivy. He'd stared. He'd gone and done the thing he'd so angrily warned against. This was not right. This was not how a brawny, strong, masculine sergeant should behave. He slumped down against the cool tile and took several more deep breaths (as the Chaplain had advised, in order to control his emotions). 

It took forty-nine of these before he at last felt comfortable enough to exit the shower. Gathering his courage, he did the towel up around him and strode out calmly. He could hear Killer's moaning about how Sarge used all the hot water, and Beetle's cool reply of how Sarge stuck around because of "more square footage." Good old Beetle.

Sarge smiled inwardly. At least it was the morning, and a hike was scheduled for at least a few hours, followed by more training. Here, he'd get to dip back into the world of cozy machismo, ignoring what perversity that, back there, was. It was just—curiosity, for sure. What did men who weren't as loathsome as him look like, right? Right?

With a final and fiftieth sigh, he turned the corner and headed for the locker room, satisfied—for now, at least—in his peaceful normality.


End file.
